Trusting Words, Hands, Hearts
by Sveinity
Summary: [Part 1 of the Lament Series] Riku is stumbling upon his rude awakening. Sora is drowning in his artistic talent and his secrets. When they're thrust together after years apart, how do they handle life? [AU RikuxSora]


**A/N: **

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Kingdom Hearts. If I did... Well, there would be a whole lot more than just "implied" Riku/Sora in the games.

**Title Disclaimer: **The title comes from the _Yellowcard_ song: _Words, Hands, Hearts. _I was listening to it while I finished with the fine details and it kind of struck me that it went with the story. I recommend listening to it.

**Pairings: **Riku/Sora.

**Warning:** This is my first Kingdom Hearts fic. It's alternative universe. It may end up being a bitter-sweet story (read the bottom for details about continuation). This fic is rated pg-13 for adult language, but I'm placing it under the 'M' category anyway. The characters within may or may not be in character. **You do not have to have played and/or beaten any of the games to understand and enjoy.**

**Summary: **Riku is stumbling upon his rude awakening. Sora is drowning in his artistic talent and his secrets. When they're thrust together after years apart, how do they handle life?

* * *

Self resentment is something that I don't recommend. It's hard to live with. Slowly, it tears you apart, piece by piece. Why? When you resent yourself, you can't move on. When you resent yourself, you live in the past. No, better yet, you're _stuck_ in the past. You don't grow. You don't learn. You're unable to embrace the mistakes that you made. 

How do I know this? First hand experience, first-**freaking**-hand experience.

And not only is self resentment hard to live with, it's harder still to accept. I went on with my boring, repetitive, daily life for a good few years before I even began to realize that I hated myself. It took me longer to find out _why_.

-

We were the trio of trouble. We were inseparable. We were two foolish boys and one naïve little girl. We were best friends, "were" being the operative word.

I used to dream that it would happen, but never imagined how realistic those dreams, _nightmares_, actually were. I thought it unthinkable, unfathomable. The whole prospect of us not being friends was frightening and preposterous. However unlikely the idea seemed, years came and went without change, that is, until the first month of high school passed us by in a blur. Without even realizing what was happening, we all three fell in to different crowds.

Kairi got sucked in with the preps, and by association, the jocks. She joined the island's cheer squad and helped the Dance Committee. She immersed herself in clubs and many sporting events, she even ran and won a spot on student council. I found myself tangled with the rich goths, punks, and emo(tive)s (And, no, that's not an oxymoron). Even though I didn't dress like them, or really _do_ anything with them, I was accepted with open arms. I guess my personality was enough to grant me a place.

Then there was Sora. He… Well, Sora was just… Sora. He had his own thing going. He was still outgoing and caring and determined. He studied hard and managed to joke and fiddle around with whomever he happened to be talking with at the time. Sora even took on various odd jobs around the island, volunteering his self willingly when someone in need did not have the money to pay him properly.

Sora seemed happy. Sora seemed content. But the truth of the matter is: Sora was _alone_. Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and months turned to two years before I realized.

My year began much like it does with anybody. I reunited with friends and enemies alike, chatting about the events of summer and complaining about how much school sucked. At least, that was what I always did after break. But there was one exception. My foreign language class was over crowded. So when mid November hit, I had myself a new schedule.

I am not a creature of habit, nor do I necessarily love change, but when I found out that I would no longer have lunch to finish a Spanish paper, I was more than a little peeved. A grudge was formed, and who better than to take everything out on but people who were intimidated by me? I went around all day, shooting glares and slamming doors. I even had the audacity to snap sarcastically to my all of my teachers, well… except one: My art professor.

I love Ms. B. She is an excellent teacher, especially at her young age, with exceptional art talent. But I have to give her even more credit. She took one look at my face that day in November and saw that I was not happy. She inquired what was wrong and said that I could go home if I needed to. I reassured her that, no, I would be fine, that I was only a little sore because I'd had a Spanish presentation that had gone horribly wrong since my prep time was gone. If only I had known, I could have studied the night before. But, no, the school had to surprise me.

I hate surprises. And that wasn't even the only one I got that day.

When the tardy bell rang, Sora came strolling in through the classroom doors. I watched him approach Ms. B., assuming that the whatever-it-was in his hand was a something from another teacher. Her squeal let me know that I was wrong. Only one thing made Ms. B. that happy: Artwork. My interest was caught, an eyebrow arching out of habit.

Sora handed it to her and as she excitedly stared at it… her smile disappeared. I had no idea why that would happen. Ms. B. loved all art, be it good, bad, or just plain terrible. This was the first time that I had ever seen her react in such a manner.

Just what was it?

I eyed Sora. His head was bowed, hands stuffed in the pockets of his black shorts. He was nervous, which was odd as well. Sora just wasn't a nervous person.

This wasn't like them at all. What the hell was going on?

Ms. B. glanced over at Sora and her frown turned thoughtful. She spoke quickly to him, but I was too far away to hear what she was saying. Add in the cacophony of the rest of the class and it was a lost cause to even try. All I could do was watch, noting Sora's nodding and Ms. B.'s slowly returning smile. And then she was done, shooing Sora away. Ms. B. kept the thing he had given her, setting it carefully on her desk before she addressed the class.

"Okay everybody, calm down, please," As per usual, each person did as she asked, their conversations dying down almost instantaneously, "Today we're just finishing up on the projects. You know what you need to do. Get to it."

Ms. B. turned back to her desk, a distant look on her face. I could only guess that she was still thinking about what had happened with Sora, what he'd given her, as I got up from my seat. I had half a mind to go over there and ask what it was. The smarter half of me chose not to.

"Oh!" I froze, half listening to what Ms. B. remembered to say, "Don't forget that today is the last day for M.A.C. entries."

Mack? What was mack? It took me a moment to recall what she meant. Not mack, M.A.C, the Mainland Artistry Contest. I'd thought about sending in one of my sketches, but they were nothing special. They were what they were: charcoal _sketches_. They weren't good enough to win anything remotely like M.A.C.

I hmm'ed to myself as I heading over to my art locker, mumbling the combination quietly to myself as I spun the lock. One thing took up my small little private storage: my _sketch_ book. I pulled it out, thumping it against my thigh as I slammed my locker shut and snapped the lock back on, brooding.

The only reason that I even took this class was because the island required two semesters of an art form and this class was pretty much free reign. You could choose to do whatever you wanted, so long as it was "art". But now I was alone to struggle through it.

Scowling to myself, I returned to my table, grabbing two charcoal pencils on the way. I flopped myself down in my chair and flipped through the book, glimpsing my past work as I searched for a blank page. And when I found one, my scowl morphed into a glare.

The disgustingly white page stared up at me, intimidating and mocking. I snatched up one of the pencils, no ideas coming to mind. My eyes slipped closed, but all that I saw was Sora standing nervously. I brought my hands up to massage my temples, attempting to thwart the headache that was sure to attack me at any given moment. Sighing, I gave up and opened my eyes, nearly jumping out of my seat.

God, I really, _really,_ hated surprises.

I was no longer alone at my table in the back corner. Sora was sitting across from me, gazing blankly out the window which was somewhere behind me. He cradled a camera in one hand, a film canister in the other. What… was he doing here…?

I opened my mouth to ask him just that until I noticed he wouldn't even hear me if I did. Sora was far off in his own world and I knew from past experience that when Sora's gone, he's gone. There is nothing that anyone can say or do to bring him back. If you _have _to do something, wait patiently and pray that he'll come back soon. So I shut my mouth and kept it shut, as tempted as I was.

I hadn't known that he was in this class, let alone a photographer. That camera in his hands was definitely not one of the school's. It looked expensive. But it was then that I realized that I didn't know anything about Sora anymore. This was the first class that I'd had with him since middle school. I felt my stomach knot painfully, immediately passing it off as hunger.

With nothing better to do, I studied his face. He'd matured a lot. I could see it in his sharp blue eyes. I could see it in the way his shoulders slumped under an invisible weight. He obviously was no longer the carefree Sora that I used to know. Suddenly, I felt strained. Suddenly, I wasn't able to look into his eyes, however vacant they might be. So I peered down at my sketch book and perhaps, at that moment, it was no longer as daunting as I had first thought.

I couldn't understand why. I, Riku, should not be this intimidated, this _embarrassed_ and **ashamed**, by… by _Sora_.

The headache hit me full force. It was worse than I had predicted. I scowled, but that only sent sharp pains shooting through my eyes. Forcing myself not to wince, I brought my hands to my face, crushing the heels of my palms into my eye sockets. I couldn't handle it, not then. The headache felt unbearable, but I knew, somewhere deep, deep down inside, that I'd manage to live.

Hearing the sound of paper sliding across the desk, I let my hands drop to my lap with a slow exhale of breath. Sora had my sketch book and was now avidly drawing. In _my_ sketch book, with _my_ pencil, well, okay, maybe the pencil wasn't mine, but I'd gotten it for _my_ use.

I was tempted to snap at him to knock it the hell off, but then his eyes shot up momentarily. I felt my body lock in place. A cold, _cold_ feeling washed over me like dry ice; it burned. The words caught in my throat. I could only manage feigned disinterest. Sora didn't say anything. He just went back to his drawing.

At first, I wasn't able to tell what the picture was. All I saw were a bunch of lines, some so light they were barely visible. Slowly, I watched as those same lines came together to form an island. But not just any island. It was there very same one that I used to spend all my time at, from dusk until dawn. It was the island where Sora, Kairi and I would just sit and talk and laugh and joke and cry. I hadn't been there in a long while.

Sora was fast, I noticed. Even when it looked like he didn't know what in God's name he was doing with all of his fast strokes and smears, everything eventually sculpted together. And Sora didn't stop with the island. No, he began drawing other things, _creatures_ that I'd never seen before in my life. They were small and dark, some with a strange heart symbol on their small bodies. This was coming from Sora? Happy, friendly Sora? I was… confused.

And he still wasn't done. Unconsciously, I leaned forward get a better view of the "sketch", headache long past forgotten in all of the…intrigue. Sora connected the last of the lines, giving a vague outline of a person. Definitely male and-

"Go away," Sora spoke softly, stopping the pencil's movement across the no longer blank page.

What was that supposed to mean, "Go away"? This was _my_ seat. He was using _my_ things and he just wanted me to "_go away"_? I silently refused, leaning back in my chair to prove my point even though it lost me my view of the sketch book. I tried to convince myself that I wasn't interested, that I didn't care what it was, but I had this feeling-

"You're in my seat and in my light."

This… couldn't be Sora. He was never like this. Not with any one. Even the jerks people just _knew_ he didn't like never got treatment like this. He at least acted civil with them. But now… he was just terse and blasé. I felt uncomfortable and irritated.

"You're mistaken," I spoke just as softly, treading carefully across the mood, "This is my seat."

Sora looked up at me for the second time. His heart shaped face was set in neutral. I felt his eyes raze right through me.

"Riku? Are you working?" Ms. B. asked to my right, "Are you sure you don't need to go home?"

I jumped in my seat, head whipping around to frown at her. I hadn't even noticed her approaching.

"No, I'm fine. I'll work," I answered after a moment, glancing at Sora, "'Headache, is all."

"Alright, if you're sure," Ms. B. looked at me knowingly and I gave a tight lipped smile in return.

When she was gone, Sora began working on the drawing again. I let out a sigh, slouching down farther in the uncomfortable plastic seat.

"Why are you using my sketch book?" I questioned in a defeated voice, letting my eyes flutter closed.

"Because you weren't going to."

"And how could you possibly know that?"

"You just sat there, looking pained. It was obvious that you weren't going to touch it." Sora stated matter-of-factly, nonchalantly.

"So you decided to?"

"Yes."

"All right," I overstressed the words, drawing them out.

"Exactly," He breathed out in mock stress relief, chewing softly on his tongue as he completed his picture.

He tore it from the book, scribbling his name on the bottom left hand corner. Then he held it up in front of his face, examining it with a critical eye. Sora shrugged to himself, laying the paper face down on the table.

"Can I see it?" I requested, reopening my eyes.

"No," He replied frankly.

My head throbbed. It was hard to focus, hard to get my words straight. At least, that's what I told myself. I became aggravated. I was tired of being this way. I wanted to be calm and cool and unprovoked. It wasn't fair. Sora wasn't being fair.

"Why? You used my sketchbook."

He seemed to struggle to keep his patience, "Why are you here, Riku?"

"Answer my question and I'll answer yours," I reasoned.

Sora put on a show of thinking about it, spreading his elbows far apart on the table, interlocking his fingers and resting his chin on them while letting out a long "hmm". I looked up at the ceiling, silently asking for some sort of divine guidance.

"You can see it _if_ you don't ask me anything about it and _if_ you tell me why you're here."

"Deal."

He untangled his fingers and leaned down towards the desk. He breathed in deeply, puffing out his cheeks, before he let the air out, blowing the picture to me. So childish, and yet so undeniably Sora that I nearly smiled, barely catching myself in time.

I picked it up, flipping it over so that I could see. I swear that my heart skipped a beat. I had assumed right, those lines had connected to form _me_. But that wasn't all. I wasn't alone with the creatures. Sora was there, reaching a hand out to me as I reached a hand out to him. Our fingertips almost touched. We reached and reached, but it was useless. I was drawn so that I was being sucking in to Darkness; Sora was drawn so that he was being pulled in all different directions by the creatures. And then it dawned on me. That symbol gave them their name. They were Heartless. Sora was being pulled by the Heartless.

"I…," I was speechless.

"Just answer my question, Riku."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, tearing my eyes from the picture to look at Sora, "My classes were too full. They changed my schedule around."

Sora nodded, idly rolling one of the charcoal pencils back and forth across the desk. I watched him without a word, trying to piece together something remotely intelligent to say. No use. And just when I was becoming desperate, the bell rang. Thank you, divine power!

I stood, swinging my bag across my shoulder and collecting my things. Sora pointedly took his drawing back from me, handing over the pencil in an exchange. And we quietly went out separate ways. I headed for my art locker, stuffing everything inside and surprisingly, shut the door without smashing it closed. Sora headed for… what ever class that he had last period.

I walked to the gym, wondering who would be there. Before that day, I had had Physical Education second period, with people I knew. Plus, it was the third Friday of the Month. The Heath class would be there too. It was a Pacer day. Lovely.

Pacer is something that everyone has to participate in on the first and third Friday of every month. You have to move from one set line to another set line, pacing yourself with a CD that beeps at you, signaling for you to go to the other line. The CD gradually speeds up from a walking pace until you're at a full on sprint. You can only miss a line two times before you have to stop and look up at the score board to see how many lines you made. What's worse, Pacer has no end. It goes on until everyone is done. It's tiring and boring and repetitive.

I could hardly contain my joy as I walked through the boy's locker room door, the tardy bell ringing just as I stepped inside. I changed into my shorts and t-shirt, took some Aspirin from my locker, and checked in with Jay (a.k.a. Mr. Robson) so that I wouldn't be marked absent. I ignored the strange looks I got and pushed my way to the gym. I sat on the bleachers, untying my tennis shoes and retying them tighter.

Then I waited… and waited… and waited some more. Usually I would take this time to socialize with Cloud or Leon, in other words, sit on the bleachers and we'd all brood together. But since Cloud and Leon weren't in this class, I decided to just people watch.

First I watched Tidus and Wakka talking animatedly about something, football (1) no doubt, Selphie running up behind them and jumping on Wakka's back. I rolled my eyes, scanning over everyone as they filed out of their respective locker rooms for any one that I was familiar with. There was Rikku, Paine and Yuna… and no one else. They were upperclassmen, Seniors to my Junior status, but they were all right. Actually, Yuna's house was located closest to mine…but neither of our houses could really be called "houses". More like mansions.

The three girls sat down in front of me on the first row of wooden bleachers. I sighed mutely, eavesdropping on their conversation half heartedly.

"-was unbelievable!" Rikku jabbered to her two best friends, "I never thought that he was the type of person to take a picture like _that_!"

"What do you mean?" Yuna sounded genuinely curious.

"Well, who would have ever thought that Sora had a dark side to him?" That caught my interest and I automatically perked up, my back straightening.

"What was it like?"

"It was pure brilliance, Yunie! Pure brilliance! But it was also depressing— Ow, Paine, stop that! Oh. Right."

The gym instructors were rounding everyone up, starting stretches. I made sure that I was sitting behind the three girls in case they started to talk about Sora again. And that they did.

"How did you even get to see it?" Paine whispered to Rikku.

"I was helping Ms. B. send in M.A.C. entries last period."

"Do you think Sora stands a chance?" Yuna speculated, bending forward to touch her toes.

"Without a doubt. You really should have seen— Ow! Paine, what was that— Oh! Oh, yeah. I forgot Sora was here with health. Topic change."

My head whipped up from stretching, my eyes searching for Sora. He was here? How come I hadn't seen him? I skimmed through the students, looking for Sora's spiky hair. Sure enough, there he was, laughing with some _sluttish_ looking freshman girl. Who did she think she was? She was hanging all over him, pressing her nonexistent breasts against him while she tried to thwart him from stretching. Honestly. It hurt to watch.

A whistle was blown and we were all split up in our two groups. There were too many students for us to run Pacer comfortably all at once. Everyone who ran under fifty were in group one and went first. Which meant that I got to go back to the bleachers and sit to wait… again. Lucky me.

"How much do you usually run?" I nearly jumped, hearing Sora speak in to my ear from behind.

"Whatever I want to." And yet…, I still managed to be calm and collected.

"Which is…?" Sora prodded, plopping down next to me, leaning forward to watch the people running.

"When I'm lazy, I go for about seventy. When I feel like exercising, a hundred. If I really want to push my self…, who knows what I could get."

"Yeah? I go until I want to be done, which is never over eighty. I'm too lazy. I don't know what I could do if I wanted to keep at it."

I was kind of relieved that Sora was being civil with me, but I couldn't help but marvel at the mood change. What had brought all this on? But then, he wasn't looking at me, wasn't facing me. I couldn't help but feel that he was the one humoring _me,_ not the other way around. It pushed my buttons _just_ **right**.

I was on an emotional whirlwind with Sora. An endless cycle of curiosity, irritation and relaxation that just _would _**not _end_**; therefore I dubbed it, obviously, a "cycle". Yeah, brilliant… I know.

"Race me. We'll see who can last the longest. Winner gets that picture you drew."

"What? No! Besides, I already _have_ it. There's nothing in it for me if I win."

"You don't want the satisfaction of knowing that you beat _me_?" I put a hand over my chest in mock astonishment. "Unbelievable. No… You're right. How about, wait…, no, never mind _that_… I'll give you three favors _and_ let you keep the picture."

"'Let' me?" Sora repeated, scowling (pouting more like) at me out of the corner of his eye while he thought over my proposition, "Done and done."

"Good."

Silence plunged upon us, wrapping his compatible arms around our waists in a cool embrace, linking the distance that separated Sora and me. I was thankful, or as thankful as I could possibly be in that kind of situation. Three Favors? What had I been thinking? Not that I could (would) loose.

Finally, our turn to run Pacer arrived. Sora stood and jumped off the bleachers, and I followed with less enthusiasm. It was an unspoken rule that we had to stand side by side on the far end of the gym, as away from every one else as the limited room allowed. A woman's voice floated from the speakers, starting the count down to begin.

"3, 2, 1…" I mumbled with the recording, stepping over the line at the beep.

Sora grinned next to me, walking at an exaggeratedly slow pace and nearly missing the first line before the next beep to continue on because of it. He just laughed it off, no harm done. I kept my breathing slow and even, using my nose in stead of my mouth. It was always a bitch to run Pacer when you were sick or had a cold. I hated breathing through my mouth and never did so unless I had to. It made everything dry and sore and scratchy.

Time passed quickly as it usually does while doing this sort of thing. By the time we hit thirty every one was jogging. Well, except for Sora. He was kind of skipping, sometimes facing forward and sometimes… not. A few people laughed, a few people told him to knock it off; I just shook my head in exasperation. Fifty hit and Sora could no longer risk fooling around, proving that he took the race just as seriously as I. Come sixty lines and students around us were beginning to drop out, alone or with a friend. I didn't notice Yuna, Paine and Rikku stop at sixty-eight, or Selphie at seventy. I didn't notice that I was one of four left running, didn't listen as Tidus encouraged Wakka when the other boy began to slow at a hundred fifteen, reminding him of their goal: one hundred thirty. All I could concentrate on was beating Sora, keeping my breathing even, matching the increasing speed of the beeping.

There was no longer time to rest between one beep and the next. There was no walking or jogging or even running. I was forced to kick my speed up a notch, sprinting back and forth, back and forth. Sweat beaded down my face, down my back. I was hot, but not bothered, and tired. My body screamed at me to stop, but my mind told me that Sora was still running. It was with a jolt that I realized that we were the only ones left. Had Tidus and Wakka made their goal? Had they beaten the school's record?

I did a double take at the score board. One hundred forty, it flashed in bright red numbers, one hundred forty-one… Who would have guessed that Sora or I could have even made it so far, surpassing the jocks and gym fanatics? I shook my head, letting out a small, dry cough of exhaustion, trying to bring moisture back to my mouth.

My chest ached. I _really_ wanted to stop. Sora stumbled beside me, tripping on air. Not that he stopped. No, he only slowed, coming close to missing his first line. As soon as I reached the far line my feet stopped and with a nod to Sora, he stopped too.

"We're not," I called out, coughing again, "done."

I waited for one beep, desperately trying to catch my breath. I leaned forward on my knees, panting, ignoring the demands that we quit so that the class could play basketball and the shouts of encouragement alike. My body hurt and throbbed and I wanted to vomit. I was covered in sweat, my hair sticking to my face and neck. It was disgusting. I felt disgusting. The second beep came and I started again, Sora one step ahead of me.

There was nothing in Pacer's rules that said that you couldn't stop to miss your two beeps and, at that moment, I couldn't give a rat's ass about what the teachers were thinking. Apparently, neither did Sora, if his peeling off his shirt was any indication. I was quick to follow his example. I soon felt better, but not by much.

"Riku?" Sora gasped, a slight limp in his gait.

"Sora?" I returned after a gulp of air.

"Want to… call…-"

"Tie?... Only… if…-"

"Both get… rewards…?"

"Yes!" I croaked, strained.

"Deal!"

We threw ourselves to the floor, naked, sweaty chests heaving. The polished wood felt orgasmic (love that word) against my back. Sighing heavily, I peeked up at the scoreboard and wanted to laugh. Sora _did_ laugh.

"Who would' a'… thought?" He rolled closer to me, body flushed and shaking.

I didn't answer, too busy trying to calm my erratically beating heart. My breathing was evening out… so why was my heart speeding up? Sora's half massed eyes wouldn't let me turn away. I felt trapped and spellbound and… vulnerable… Then Jay was there, hovering over the two of us, throwing down our shirts.

"One sixty-two (2), boys," He laughed in disbelief, "I'm speechless! In all my years…"

Sora groaned, sitting up gingerly, breaking the connection. I followed suit, minus the groaning. I pulled my shirt over my head, blatantly ignoring the ogling stares that the two of us were receiving. When I stood, my legs felt shaky. I took a moment to gather myself, to command my legs to hold my weight.

"I've got jelly for legs," Sora laughed, having just stood himself.

I steadied him as he swayed, arms hooked under his armpits. Sora only laughed harder. I was unable to fight off the smile that twisted my face, rolling my eyes.

"Be more careful, will you?" I asked, amused, helping him to stand on his own two feet, ignoring the warmth of his skin.

"Riku, I don't know what you run Pacer at, but Sora, you ran more than twice your normal!" Selphie yelled ferverently, running up to us, "How did you _do_ it?"

"Yeah, how did you do it?" Tidus echoed, Wakka at his side, both looking eager and stunned… and jealous?

"I had motivation. Riku and I were raci- Oomph," Sora broke off when _that girl_ from before jumped on his back, dropping his shirt.

"Sora!" She squealed, squeezing against him.

He lost his balance again. _That girl_ pushed away from him, but it was too late. Sora still fell forward towards me. I crouched down to catch him, wrapping my arms around his waist as he knocked against me. The force of his momentum wouldn't have usually been a problem, but since my legs were still iffy, we both fell back on the gym floor. And what an interesting, if not embarrassing, position we found ourselves in.

I don't know if people gasped, or if jaws fell open or if anyone laughed. I couldn't hear or focus on anything at that moment other than Sora, Sora who was giving me the surprise of a lifetime… and I didn't… quite… mind… His body was flush atop mine, legs between my own, hands fisted in my shirt. If that wasn't bad enough, our lips were crushed together. I felt his heart racing, felt his breath whoosh into my mouth and I felt the blush that stained his cheeks pink as his eyes opened wide. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe or think or do anything at all. I don't know how long we stayed there, frozen in place, tangled together on the floor.

"Ow," Sora mumbled, leisurely breaking our _kiss_, leaning his forehead against mine.

"Come on, let's get up," My voice didn't sound right; breathless.

"Alright," He leaned back, unclenching his hands from my shirt to push away from me.

"That was…" I turned to see Yuna standing behind us between Paine and Rikku.

"Hot!" Rikku finished for her, jabbing a hand excitedly into the air, "Sexy! Erot- Ow, Paine! Knock it off!"

Sora broke into a fit of giggles, yes, giggles, breaking the strained tension around the rest of the gathered group. I habitually rolled my eyes, scooping up Sora's shirt and handing it to him.

"Jay, we're going to leave early. There's only ten minutes left in class anyway," I told our stock still gym teacher firmly, no room for argument.

"We are?" Sora asked, tugging his shirt over his head.

"Yes, we are."

"Oh, Okay!" Sora grinned, side stepping around everyone and dismissing himself without another word.

"Er…, Riku?" Tidus called, stopping me just as I opened the door.

"Uh, you did good. Real good," Talk about awkward… and bad grammar.

"Thanks," Then I disappeared inside.

I heard the showers before I saw them. Sora was arranging two towels and a bottle of shampoo on one of the benches, humming obliviously to only a tune he knew. It was impossible not to smile. Who was I to defy the odds? No one, that's who.

"Sora, what are you doing?"

"Wha- Riku!" He started, whisking around to stare at me with wide, impossibly blue eyes, "Um… We both ran a lot, and I don't know about you, but I feel disgusting. So I started a shower and then I thought that you might want one, too, so I started another one just in case. They take way too long to warm up. It wastes water, but it's not like _I _can do anything about it. I hate cold showers. Anyway, while the water heated up I dashed to get my towel. And then I thought that maybe you didn't have one and I grabbed my spare. _And then_ I noticed how gross my hair is, so I grabbed my shampoo. You can use it, too. That is, if you're going to shower at all- Why are you laughing?"

It was true. I was laughing, uncontrollably laughing. Sora was just so… so… _Sora_. And even though I was acting completely unlike myself, I didn't care. The whole situation was funny. Life be damned, I wasn't not going to laugh.

"Riku!" Sora demanded, his eyes looking confused and… hurt? "Tell me what's so funny."

"You," I choked on my spit and held up a hand while I coughed the fit out, "You were rambling. Sorry."

"Oh, well, yes…," Sora rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish, "I do that. Sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize about."

"Neither do you," He pointed out, toeing off his shoes.

I graced him with a shrug.

-

The weekend passed without incident. On a whole, it was boring and uneventful. Much like always, I spent my time at home, reclusive from the outside world that went on obliviously around me. I pigged out on yakisoba noodles and cereal, eaten separately, of course. My parents weren't there, away on some business trip, but that was nothing new. They were constantly leaving me home while they left, going here and there, doing this and a little bit of that. I didn't care. I didn't mind. Yeah…, right. Why would I need to mind? I got to spend quality time with the maids who giggled over me, read to my hearts content in the library, and do what ever the hell I wanted. Life was great for me when my parents were gone. At least, that's what I told myself.

However, Sunday night was "not kind" to me. Usually vivid dreams are no problem. Usually I welcome them with open arms and a clear and content mind. Usually vivid, _wet _dreams are all the better… but this one was different. There was no girl in my arms. There was a boy, a young man, **_Sora_**. We were in an indistinguishable place. Darkness completely surrounded us. It was above us and below our backs as we writhed together in ecstasy. Maybe we were floating. I didn't know and I really didn't care. All that mattered was kissing Sora, touching Sora, extracting those sweet, throaty moans from Sora's swollen lips; _Sora_, **Sora**, **_Sora_**…

To be honest, that dream was the shortest, yet _"best" _wet dream that I'd ever had. I woke with a start, sticky with sweat and… something else, my pajama bottoms twisted wildly around my legs. I was panting and confused and, admittedly, a little scared. My hands felt unbelievably cold against my flushed face, my fingernails biting into my forehead as I curled on my bed. I was a mess, both physically and mentally. For the first time in a long while, I felt my throat clog and my eyes burn. I wasn't ashamed. Shame was the farthest thing from my mind. No… I felt hopeless; completely, absolutely hopeless.

I tossed and turned for a good hour before the Sand Man granted me a restless state of sleep. I was thankful for that little bit of comfort, even though it wasn't much.

Monday morning came all too soon. I was groggy and moody and tired. My eyes had bruises of exhaustion encircling them, marring my creamy complexion. I slept through my morning classes without hesitation, bluntly informing my teachers beforehand and asking for the daily assignments and homework before I buried my face in my backpack. On a whole, I was left alone. Cloud stared at me with this hard look on his face, but that was normal. Leon poked me, trying to wake me up. When that didn't work, he attempted to kick my chair, promptly missed and ended up kicking my leg instead (3). That plan worked, worked a little _too_ well for him. After I jumped up, grabbed my Spanish book and pelted it at him while yelling obscenities the whole while, Leon found it best to leave me alone. Bully for him.

"Riku, Riku, get _up_!"

"Go 'way," I mumbled, shoving Leon blindly, my head still nestled on my bag.

"Riku, seriously, it's time for lunch!"

"' Don' care," I willed him to leave me alone, willed him to go drown himself in the drinking fountain.

"Oh, Leon, hey, have you seen- Riku? There you are."

My head shot up at the sound of _his_ voice, Sora's… I felt my traitorous face flush and hoped they wouldn't think anything of it. I ran my hands over my cheeks, rubbing away the impressions that my backpack had left.

"Sora, right?" Leon asked rhetorically, "I've heard a lot about you from Rikku."

"Uh, erm, really?" I gazed at him steadily. He was embarrassed.

"Yeah. She told me a little about your M.A.C. entry."

"Oh?" How can such a simple word sound so scarily… empty? Sora must have been furious.

"Yeah. She said it was, and I quote, 'screaming sexy brilliance.'"

"Right. Sure," He turned from Leon, eyes narrowed long before they reached me.

"What do you want, Sora?" I asked calmly, covering a yawn.

"I'm calling in a _favor_," He stressed, his anger seeming to vanish.

"Yeah?"

"Yup. Come on."

"Mm'kay," I stood and gathered my stuff, swinging my bag over my shoulder with lethargy.

"Huh? What kind of a 'favor'?" Leon demanded suspiciously.

"Bye, Leon, Cloud," I drawled, clearly ignoring his question,

The silent, intimidating Cloud acknowledged me subtly, hardly moving at all from his place atop the Spanish teacher's desk, said Spanish teacher currently absent.

"I'll have him back in time for next period," Sora reassured before he excused himself out the door, dragging me out after him.

"So…," I began once we were outside and walking down the sidewalk.

"So…," Sora repeated, grinning up at the sky.

"Where are we going?"

"On a picnic," He looked at me with a stubborn look on his face, as if daring me to say otherwise, "but first we need to stop off at my house to grab everything."

"Alright," I yawned, kneading my palms over my eyes.

"Mm."

It wasn't long before we reached his house. Yet again realization exploded in my chest. I hadn't been in his house in _forever_. I felt inexplicably…miserable.

"You coming?"

"No. Are you?" I said without thinking as I forced my legs to move.

"Wha- Ew, Riku!" He took out a house key and unlocked the door, mumbling all the while, "My poor virgin ears."

I snickered lightly, not daring to move from the doorway. It just… It wouldn't… I _couldn't_…

"Here, carry this," Sora shoved a picnic basket at me.

"Uh, sure- oomph!" It was _heavy_, and- "What the hell are you laughing about?"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing."

"Is everything in this _necessary?_" I asked, exasperated.

"Yes." Sora said simply, pushing me outside.

"Your nose it growing (4)." I muttered, rolling my eyes.

"Huh?" He shut and locked the door.

"Never you mind," I trailed after him to the beach next to his house, thankful that we weren't going far when I had to carry the _completely necessary _basket, "Here?"

"Yuh-huh," Sora plopped down in the sand, a soft smile making him look almost….bittersweet?

I placed the basket between us before sitting down myself. We sat in silence for a good five minutes before either of us moved, and maybe, even so much as _breathed_. We watched as wave after wave lapped against the sand; listened to the soothing roar as they folded in on themselves, as the gulls cried overhead, as the… camera… clicked… photo after photo… What the hell?

"Sora… What are you doing?"

"Taking pictures of you."

"Obviously. Why?"

"Because I want to, now budge over there," He pointed in the direction of the water, looking completely serious.

"What? No, I'm not going out there." I said all too quickly.

"Yes you are. The first of my favors is to take pictures of you."

"No, you said that was the picnic."

"Nuh-uh," Sora contradicted with a shake of his head, "I said that we were going on a picnic, not that it was the actual _favor_. Now get out there."

"You're insane. The water's probably freezing!"

"Riku, don't even. We live on a _tropical_ island," Sora pointed out, "Plus, we used to go swimming all the time. You'll be fine."

"I'm only going waist deep," I told him firmly, standing up and toeing off my shoes.

"Okay, do that."

I hesitantly tread through the shallows, emitting a low his as the water lapped farther and farther up my legs. Sora was right in that it wasn't cold, but it wasn't exactly warm, either. It was bearable. I turned around to ask what Sora wanted me to do for his photos… but his camera was already poised and clicking. On a whim, I held out my hand like Sora had drawn me doing, smirking.

Sora had to consciously fight off his laughter to keep the camera still as he refocused and snapped two more shots. His hands went slack, his mouth opening and… suddenly Sora wasn't there anymore. A wave crashed over my head, twisting me under its force and beaching me back on the shore.

"Yeah, real funny," I said sarcastically to Sora who was sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, spitting out the taste of saltwater.

"I'll, uh, run and get a towel."

"You better." And he did.

Sora carefully placed his camera in its carrying case and ran to his house to fetch me a towel. He even came back with a change of clothes. I wrung out my hair while I waited for him to come back. Sora didn't take long. I peeled off my shirt, throwing it to the ground in distaste.

"Ri-ku!" Sora skid to a halt in the warm sand, face flushing a pretty shade of pink, "What are you _doing_?"

"Changing…"

"_Here?_" He sounded so… astonished. Huh.

"Yes, here. Gi'me those," I took the change of clothes from Sora's outstretched hand.

I quickly stripped the rest of the way down, smirking at his pointedly turned back. I couldn't help but snicker at him. It wasn't as if we _hadn't_ seen each other naked before. Of course, that was when we were in grade school, but that was beside my point…

"I'm decent." Though barely.

Sora's close, even though they would clearly be too big on him, were too small for me. I had at least a good foot on him, which wasn't surprising because I _was_ older… and even than I don't think Sora'll grow much taller than he already was. The shirt was pulled tight over my chest, the shorts were looser but showed off more thigh than I would have liked. They weren't exactly uncomfortable to wear and Sora's expression was worth having to wear it all the rest of the day.

"You're… You're like some sort of model!" He exclaimed, wide eyed.

"Sora, don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not. Honestly, I'm not," A contagious grin broke out on his still flushed face, "You should really see yourself."

"Hn," I sat down next to the basket, "Sit down."

"Yes'm," He dropped on the sand, pulling off the basket's lid.

He handed me a blue plastic container. I opened it, staring down in surprise. Mushroom pasta. I hadn't had that since- a long while ago…

"I had a craving for it… thought I would share," Sora mumbled, sticking a fork in one of the larger mushrooms.

"Thanks…" We ate in a silence that mimicked the silence that had fallen over us when we'd first arrived.

"We'd better get back."

"Hm?" I'd finished my pasta not long ago and was lounging on my back, cloud gazing.

"It's been almost an hour. Class'll be starting soon."

We gathered up our empty water bottles and plastic ware, stuffing it back into the basket. Sora grabbed his camera case and I my pile of soggy clothing. We dropped everything back off at his house, Sora getting me a plastic bag to put my clothes in. Before long, we were walking through the school gates. The first bell had already wrung and if we didn't get a move on, we'd be late.

"Here," Sora muttered, "It's yours, now."

And then he was gone, disappearing through the school doors. I looked down at the paper in my hand. It was the drawing… I'd nearly forgotten about it. The second bell rang.

Shit. I was late.

"Thank you for joining us. Take your seat," Mrs. Cornwell didn't even look up from her computer screen to see who had entered. I was surprised.

"Don't even," I hissed quietly at Cloud before he could open his mouth.

He was obviously itching to know what I'd been doing and where I'd gone with Sora. He could keep itching, for all I cared

"Riku-"

"I said," I interrupted loudly, loud enough to earn us some stares, "_don't_."

Surprisingly enough, Cloud shut up. Not that I was complaining, because I wasn't. But since I wasn't going to talk, or even acknowledge, Cloud… than that meant that I was left to think to myself. Or, rather, stare at Sora's drawing like my life depended on it.

I just didn't _understand_ it. I didn't understand _him_. Sora was so different and yet exactly the same as he used to be all at the same time. It was so confusing. I didn't know what to think, when to speak, how to act around him. I was so frustrated and… and… and… hurt. I was… hurt… and… and I was… _ashamed_.

I hated it. I hated what he made me feel. I hated him for… No! I didn't hate him at all. I did not hate Sora at all. I…

"Riku, what's the answer for X?"

Suddenly I understood. I finally understood _exactly_ what I was feeling. Yes, I hated what I was feeling. I was a proud person. Being ashamed was something I _just didn't do…_ I was ashamed with my self, but that wasn't… it...

"Riku, would you please share your answer?"

I **hated** myself.

My hands fisted on the table. My shoulders slouched forward, my head bowing. Dismay filled my eyes, eyes that were fixed on my charcoal drawn self, sinking into darkness. Self disgust squeezed the air from my lungs.

"Riku?"

I couldn't breath.

Bile rose from my stomach, burning up my esophagus. I swallowed it back down heavily, fingers squeezing more forcefully atop the wooden desk.

"Riku, did you or didn't you solve for X?"

"Um… Sorry? H…H-hold on…" I breathed faintly, looking at the overhead projector, "It's… unsolvable…"

"Thank you," Mrs. Cornwell intoned curtly, turning to address the next student.

"Riku?" Cloud whispered curiously.

I didn't answer, pinching my eyes shut.

"What's tha-" I opened them in time to see Cloud pulling Sora's drawing off of my desk.

"**No!**" I shouted furiously, jumping out of my seat and trying to pull it back.

To my absolute horror, the picture ripped in two… right down the middle of Sora and my outstretched hands…

"_Oh…"_ I moaned, slumping in to my chair, utterly defeated.

"Boy's, what-"

"Riku, I… I'm-"

"Shut…up. Just…_damn it_…" Even to me my voice sounded weak. For the first time in years, I was actually fighting back tears.

When the bell finally rang, I hurried to Art. Sora wasn't even there. When I asked Ms. B. where he was, she said that he was out doing "classified work", whatever the hell that meant.

Then I went home.

* * *

**A/N: **This will have at least one more part to it. I'm working on it, but I don't know when it will come out. It has been a busy summer and I'm leaving again in two days. I haven't had a whole heck of a lot of time to write and this story plot will not get out of my head (not that I'm complaining). I've decided that I'd do a "series" of one-shots, in stead of chapters because this could, realistically, stand alone by itself and end here. I hope all of you don't mind. I might go back and put it in chapters after everything's done. 

**1.** Football is taking the place of blitzball. Sorry to all of you blitzball fans out there. This is an Alternative Universe story. Blitzball does not exist in the real world. And this isn't American Football. This is -soccer-.

**2.** At my school, our record is 130 something. In Kingdom Hearts, both Riku and Sora were strong and strong willed. I planted that here by giving them determination and stamina to get to 162.

**3.** This has actually happened to me. It hurt like freaking hell. I jumped up in the middle of class and everything. To the guilty person: You know who you are and, yes, I'm still holding a grudge.

**4.** Reference to Pinocchio.


End file.
